


i met him in the woods

by Phanseyelash123



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Claudia Stilinski, Claudia Stilinski Feels, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Hurt Derek Hale, Kid Fic, M/M, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Sick Claudia Stilinski, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Sourwolf Derek Hale, Stiles mourns, Teen Angst, Werewolf Derek Hale, Wolf Derek Hale, derek meets him as a wolf, not just a kid fic!!, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:19:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25740463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phanseyelash123/pseuds/Phanseyelash123
Summary: Stiles meets a wolf in the woods.—Kid fic, and... what if Derek was a high schooler instead of a 23 year old in the first season?Warning: Claudia does die, so please don’t read if you’re sensitive to parental death.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Claudia Stilinski/Sheriff Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 19
Kudos: 51





	1. The meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Just wanted to let you guys know that Stiles’s real name is actually Claudia’s father’s name. It’s a Polish name, so I headcannon that Claudia is actually Polish. Ofc, Stiles learns some and uses it. Translations will be at the bottom!

The smell of pancakes woke Stiles from a peaceful slumber, slow, gentle, and calm. A sliver of light escaped the gap between the curtain and the wall, glowing against his healthy, smooth skin. He yawned animatedly, stretching his body with an arch, cracking his back and bending all his toes as he scrunched his eyes shut. Peace. A warm sensation tingled throughout his body and honestly, he hadn’t felt better, head in dangerously comfortable pillows and wrapped in a warm blanket that felt like someone cuddling him. 

He stayed there for a few minutes, bathing in the warmth, the ray of sun warming his cheeks, but eventually, the silence was broken by his stomach growling for the smell of pancakes. He smiled and sat up, slipping on slippers and shuffled downstairs. 

There, his mother stood, swaying her hips to the beat of the music as she made pancakes. It was a family recipe, and even Stiles was beginning to learn it. He was a mommy’s boy and God damn it, he wanted to impress her. Hearing her son’s steps, she smiled warmly and turned her head to acknowledge him, “good morning, babusiu.”

“‘Morning, mama.” He greeted, hopping up onto the chair and he leaned his chin on his palm as he took in the old fifties tune, closing his eyes and letting the smell, atmosphere and the warmth of the California morning wash over him. 

Within five minutes, a mighty pile of pancakes was served in front of him. Immediately, he wolfed it down, getting a squint from his mother. “Sorry, ma.” He apologised with a sheepish smile and continued to eat it respectfully. 

Loud footsteps creaked the floor boards as his father, Noah, the sheriff of Beacon Hills, came downstairs and also entered the open plan kitchen/dining hall. He kissed his wife quickly, knowing Stiles cringed like any other child did at romantic affection. They talked about work, and Stiles tuned them out, staring out into the forest that he wished so dearly to go into. 

His mother jokingly said there were ghouls living in there. His father always replied, deadpan, “only the Hales.”

Stiles didn’t know who these “Hales” were, but he was jealous. 

The day ended and he fiddled nervously with the straps of his backpack, waiting for his mother to pick him up in her jeep, which they jokingly named Roscoe. It was rather worn, Noah even prompting they buy her another one, but she only smiled and shook her head. Stiles liked the jeep, anyway, it had too many memories inside it. 

His mother was late, and he had always been a worrier- both his mum and dad joked about how he got sweaty when around new people, or when he saw Lydia Martin, a strawberry blonde girl in his class. He didn’t even like Lydia, yet he always got flustered. It was probably because she was the prettiest girl in his class. 

He was getting off topic. 

The brown eyes flickered down the road, trying to catch sight of the traditional, blue, rackety jeep, with no prevail. 

God; this was boring. 

His concentration was quick to die, and he was pacing up and down until he sighed grumpily, and stormed off into the direction of the school to go sit inside. After all, the sun was high in the sky and he was sweating already from nerves. Hands tight- knuckles white- on the straps, his eyes caught on a black thing in the woods. 

He stared. 

The thing stopped. Looked. And ran back into the woods. 

Blinking a few times, Stiles looked between the school and the woods. 

Then the empty road. 

Smiling, he ran to the trees. 

Stiles often didn’t think things through. He was very much impulsive, and his mother explained it was a thing called ‘ADHD’, but he was six, and he didn’t pay attention. His eyes were on the ways the trees bustled in the wind. 

And now he was right with them. 

He was always allured by the wood- maybe because everyone didn’t go there, or how he grew up beside it his whole life and had only gone in a handful of times, or maybe it was Claudia’s, his mother, stories about fairies and magical beings lurking, casting spells, laughing...

He hadn’t believed her, Noah telling him those were just stories, however the thought of fairies making him float made him giggly, and he ignored his father in favour of a good time. 

Stiles’s eyes were glued to the canopies above him, dancing with the breeze and letting the sun through cracks, like water in cobblestone, dripping, mesmerising. The trees were high, the floor covered in twigs, ferns and clumps of grass and mushrooms. It didn’t disappoint from the stories Claudia lulled him to sleep to. He grinned and ran through the forest, snapping twigs and running his fingers on passing oak as he passed, and he laughed, free and full of joy. 

His foot got caught on a root of a tree, and he fell face first into the dirt. He cried out in surprise and sat himself up in a daze, eyes watering from the small pain in his nose, and he softly rubbed his fingers over the reddening feature. 

Snap. 

He blinked his long lashes and frowned, not knowing anyone else to be in the wood. His father said it... was... private? He couldn’t remember. 

Still rubbing his nose, he turned with his teary eyes and saw a clump of bushes rustle. 

“Fairy?” He asked, eyes going wide, and his open lips forming a small smile. 

The rustling got more gradual until a black wolf hopped out of the bushes, eyes an electric, unnatural blue, and as it leapt forward it seemed as surprised as Stiles was that there was a boy there. 

The boy didn’t say anything for a moment, and the wolf blinked a few times and it made a huffing noise, looking rather disappointed, and then it winced as the child opened his mouth. 

“Puppy!”

Stiles leapt up, forgetting about his nose as soon as he got it, and stepped forward to try and pet the wolf. The wolf showed its teeth, narrowing its eyes, and crouching away from the chubby, soft hands. 

“No! Zły pies!” Stiles wagged his finger. 

Seeing that the threat didn’t work on the boy, and confused by the language switch, it huffed again, this time through its nose and then sat down in defeat. Admittedly, Stiles didn’t go to pet it again. 

“Are you lost, puppy? Where’s your owner?” He asked and turned around in a full circle for good measure. No one seemed to be around. Just a small wolf and a six year old child. Hands on hips, he also sat down- opposite the canine. When sitting, the animal easily was taller than the human. The boy moved his backpack off and began to unzip, and when it opened the wolf’s tail began to wag back and forth excitedly. 

“Is this what you wanted, puppy?” He asked, lifting up a ham sandwich he hadn’t eaten for lunch. The words barely even left him and the dog was chowing down on the food. Bewildered, Stiles lightly batted his nose, “no! That’s rude! You don’t snatch!”

The wolf stopped chewing, half the sandwich hanging from its mouth and it stared at Stiles. Reluctantly, it dropped it on the floor and budged it forward with its snout. 

“Ew! I don’t want it! Ugh, just have it all.” Stiles couldn’t help but giggle when the animal sprung to life and dug into the food and licked its mouth when the last bit of food was swallowed down. After that, it sniffed the floor and up his school bag, and then inside it, making the giggle turn into a heart laugh, that got louder when the canine struggled to remove its head.

Falling onto his back, he looked calmly at the swaying branches, and the wolf slowly sat beside him, curling up into his side, head on his small chest. 

“Good puppy.” He murmured, raising a hand to its head. The dog bared it’s teeth when his fingers made contact with his fluff, so he retracted his hand. 

“You’re such a sourwolf.” He giggled and looked at the blue sky, comforted that he wasn’t alone in this forest. He had his sourwolf with him. 

He didn’t know how long it was and he was back approaching school. This time, there were gatherings of adults hovering around like anxious flocks of sheep, and he furrowed his brow when he saw police in those flocks too. 

“Daddy?” He asked, recognising his father from anywhere. 

The man startled, and his eyes went wide and he bounded towards the tiny child, wrapping him in his arms. 

“Mieczyslaw! Stiles!” Noah barely used his real name, no one ever did, so his small frown got larger. 

“Daddy, what’s going on?” He asked, cocking his head to the side as he peeked over his father’s shoulder. All the adults were staring at him, looking relieved, and the police officers spoke into their walkie-talkies. 

“Where have you been, Stiles!? We were so worried about you, oh God.” The man croaked, head still hidden in Stiles small shoulder. 

“Czemu…?” The Polish didn’t mean to come out, sometimes accidentally slipping into it since it was Claudia’s first language and he had picked up on phrases since he could understand language. Noah understood him though, and all he did was sigh heavily and squeeze him close. He pulled back, and Stiles noticed his eyes were watery. 

“Daddy?” 

“Let’s just get you back home. Mom has been worried sick.”

He was driven home in a police car and not the beloved jeep, head against the window as all excitement from seeing the dog had completely left him and he felt drained. He was questioned by a few different police officers, and eventually Noah has steered him away and began to drive. 

He didn’t tell anyone about the dog. That was Stiles’s little secret. The way home was quiet, and he rubbed his eyes sleepily, looking at his dad’s guarded face. 

“Dad, kocham cię.” He murmured. 

The man looked at him for a moment, and then sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders, “I love you too, kid.”

He fell asleep before he got home. He woke up to being carried inside, his eyes slotting open just a tad. He felt too safe to get up now. Warmth surrounded him when he was inside, and his father’s chest tumbled against his ear as he spoke, “Claudia, he was in the woods. He got bored and wandered off. He’s fine.” He whispered, and he heard shuffling. 

“Okay.” Was all his mother said and footsteps trailed upstairs. 

Oh. 

Stiles was glad he was pretending to be asleep because as soon as he was tucked into bed, he cried. 

And outside the house, a wolf frowned as it heard it’s new friend sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> babusiu- baby  
> Zły pies- bad dog!  
> Czemu … ?- Why...?  
> Kocham Cię- I love you


	2. The argument

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder, Polish translation is at the bottom. I am trying to not get carried away with using Polish too much. Btw, there won’t be too much in latter chapters. 
> 
> I love comments even if I don’t respond to them! <3 :D

A week later from the meeting with the wolf, Stiles sat forward in his bed as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His alarm was ringing and he turned it off, hopping out of bed and shuffling to go brush his teeth. He stared into the mirror, at his round face that had moles speckled across his fair skin, and his bed hair that was beyond a mess. Once done, he walked downstairs and was met by silence. 

He frowned, peeking into the living room, and the frown got deeper as no one was there. Claudia always made him breakfast... So, he trotted upstairs with his hands in his Star Wars dressing gown and entered his parent’s room. 

His father had already left, being the sheriff and all- he often said “crime could not wait.” 

There was a lump in the bed. The curtains were pulled closed. 

Licking his bottom lip anxiously, he climbed up onto the bed, lightly budging his mother’s shoulder. 

“Mama?”

“Odpieprz się...” The woman muttered and waved Stiles off tiredly. Not knowing what that phrase meant, Stiles lightly shook her again. “Mama, can you make me breakfast?” The child asked, eyes wide. He had never seen his mother like this. 

“Stiles...” she muttered, opening her eyes a slither and glancing over her shoulder. “Mama isn’t feeling too good. Go make yourself a bowl of cereal, yeah?” She then closed her eyes, “take some money from the pot to get yourself lunch. And ask Scott’s mom to take you to school today, yeah? Bałwan...”

He nodded, hopping down from the bed and scrubbing his eyes. “Okay, mama, I love you.” 

She only grunted. 

The school day was boring, the only parts that mattered was Scott. Scott was a wide eyed kid with a crooked jaw, fluffy hair, who absolutely loved detective shows. He always pretended to be one, carrying a magnify glass around with him. They had been best friends since they were two, having met in a nursery. They had been inseparable ever since. His mum who had picked them up- Melissa- had gently asked what was wrong with his mom. He simply said she felt ill and that was that. 

He sat on the curb of the road, blistering heat making him sweat buckets, and he wiped his forehead and growled moodily. Was this going to be a regular occurrence? His mother just not picking him up? Teeth gritted, he clenched his hands and stormed right for the woods, not even bothering with going inside, longing for the coolness of the trees. Five minutes passed and he sat beside a stream, poking pebbles with a stick with a pout and watery eyes. 

He didn’t understand. Did Claudia not love him anymore? Did she want him gone? Maybe he would go live with the Hales in the woods and never be seen by her again- Yeah, that sounded good. 

Before he knew it, he was sniffling and crying into his palms, stick long forgotten. Only when he felt something brush his back did he jolt, making a scared sound, and he whipped around. 

The wolf. 

It looked concerned, looking over him and tilting its head while it smelled the air. It’s eyes made Stiles melt; the feeling of calm washing over him. He wiped a few more tears and smiled, “Hey, puppy.” He greeted, and the dog took a hesitant step forward and leaned forward to the boy’s face. A soft, wet feeling dragged up Stiles’s cheek and he realised it was the wolf’s tongue, licking up his tears. Satisfied, he sat down and tilted his head, putting his paw on the boy’s leg. 

“Are you a puppy?” He murmured, wiping at the dog’s saliva. The wolf shook its head. 

“Are you a wolf?” A few moments passed and then the animal nodded, watching him carefully and flaring his nose to smell. Stiles was quiet for a moment and then nodded, resigned. “Are you a boy?” Another nod. “Okay, let’s name you...”

Ten minutes of him suggesting names when by, the dog either shaking its head or sometimes barking in distaste. Especially “Fluffy”, oh did the wolf hate the name Fluffy. When Stiles could no longer come up with names, he groaned and lied down beside the trickling stream with a crease in his brow. “Do you have a name?”

The wolf nodded. Stiles cocked a brow. “Woah, really? Can you tell me?” A few beats passed with silence, and Stiles went red realising he had asked a animal to speak English. 

“Okay... lets do it this way. Does it start with an A? No, okay. B? C? D?” At “D”, he stood up and woofed, almost looking like he was smiling. This went on until his name was, “Derek?”

The wolf howled shortly and spun around in a circle. Stiles didn’t know wolves could understand English so well. Stiles laughed contently while watching Derek celebrate the human knowing his name and he went to pet him. The wolf’s tail wagged happily and it bent over playfully. Then he saw Stiles’s hand. The wolf growled instinctively, however he hesitated, deep in thought, and then let the child put his small hand on his black head. It felt like stroking a German Shepherd, really, big, soft and strong. Stiles was careful, not wanting Derek to get scared off, and he scratched behind the wolf’s ear. Derek’s leg began to kick, tilting into it and a large, dopey smile overtook his stark expression. 

“Oh, who’s a good boy!” Stiles giggled and Derek flopped onto the floor, lying on his side and raising his hind leg so his stomach was exposed. Stiles laughed once more and put his hand on the wolf’s chest, and then his belly, rubbing it and scratching it. The petting went on for probably too long and then the wolf suddenly sat up, his eyes seemingly flashing a brighter blue, and he looked away from Stiles, into the deeper and darker woods. 

The wolf howled suddenly, making Stiles startle back and then Derek turned to him, lightly licked his hand, and ran into the darkness. 

Within a few minutes, he heard humans, all yelling his name. He went towards them, tilting his head when he saw his father and other police officers. 

“Again, Stiles?”

The car ride home was much more tense than last time, his father clearly angry, knuckles white on the steering wheel. 

“D-Daddy, I’m sorry.” Stiles tried, shaking from fear. He didn’t want his other parent to hate him to. Sure, Noah wasn’t as fun as Claudia, but he always helped him with his homework, or always offered any support he could give, and he always looked out for him. 

“I’m not mad at you, son.” 

The lights were off. The curtains were drawn. The jeep had been untouched. 

His father lightly guided him in and then shut the door with a little too much force. “Claudia?” He asked, no love in the time, just aggression. Stiles’s eyes went wide and he nervously kicked his shoes off and dropped his school bag by the closet. 

No one replied. 

“Claudia?” 

Stiles looked at his father, bewildered. He was tired, exhausted, and his jeans were dirty. He went to go upstairs, and his dad put his big hand on his shoulder to stop him. Pulling his gun from his belt, he softly shh’ed Stiles and crept upstairs.

Each stair creaked beneath him, and Stiles’s nervous sweat got worse than usual, his heart erratic. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. His eyes were watery, his hands were shaking, his heart raced and he didn’t know what was happening, or why he was feeling like he could collapse, or why the world was tilting and fading or why his father’s footsteps were like booms in his ears. 

“Claudia- jeez, I thought something had happened to you.” His father said upstairs and Stiles sank with relief, sitting on the bottom step as he shook in place. 

“Why aren’t you getting Stiles? You know I can’t, honey. I’m working. And he’s six, it’s not like he can walk home.”

“Zamknij się.”

“Nie zamknę się. You left Stiles out there, alone, with no idea what to do or where to go! You know what happened last time- he went into the woods! You know how dangerous this is? If someone heard about it, what if they took advantage and took Stiles? What then, huh?”

Noah’s voice was hushed but pissed, and Stiles’s shaking was returning. He didn’t like it when they argued. 

“Zostaw mnie w spokoju.”

“Honey, I’m not leaving you alone. What’s wrong? You’ve been acting so strange recently... do you want to talk?” He asked. There was some shuffling, someone moving in a bed. 

“To nie Twoja sprawa.”

“English, please. My Polish isn’t that good.” Noah murmured softly. 

“It’s none of your business. Just leave me alone.” Was his mother’s response. 

Stiles made it upstairs to see Noah standing in the door way of their bedroom and his mother turning away in their bed. 

“You really don’t care about me?” Stiles murmured, voice shaking. Noah jolted, like he had forgotten Stiles was even there, and led him to his bedroom. “I’ll take you to school tomorrow, get some sleep...”

He peered into his parents’s room, to see his mother staring at him blankly. Noah closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> odpieprz się - fuck off  
> Bałwan - idiot  
> Zamknij się - shut up  
> Nie zamknę się - I won’t shut up  
> Zostaw mnie w spokoju - leave me alone  
> To nie Twoja sprawa - it’s none of your business


	3. The birthday party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations at the bottom!

A month had passed and Stiles had gotten used to making breakfast for himself. His dad tried to get him to school but he was beginning to stutter and stop, needing to go to work more and more. He understood. He was a cop. He couldn’t stop work. 

Melissa was gladly taking him to school, the woman always looking tired from her own job but always smiling and ruffling Stiles’s hair, like she was his real parent. Each time she picked him up she looked into the house, trying to see if Claudia was okay. Stiles didn’t like talking about it. Claudia didn’t talk. When he came home and in the rare occasion his father was also there, they would be hushed, sometimes Noah angry, sometimes Claudia angry, but majority of the time they forcibly smiled and steered him away. He hated it. He didn’t know what happened to the warm, welcoming environment, but it had been flipped upside down by secret conversations and small arguments. 

Claudia barely left her bed anymore. 

Noah tried to not let the pain show, however Stiles sat down on a stair late at night, peaking through the spindles and watching as his father sat at the table, head in his hands. There were papers all over the table, and Stiles wondered if those were bills. Even so, that was the only time he saw the man’s real feelings. It shattered Stiles. 

Stiles was usually rather animated, enjoying talking, growing up in an accepting and loving family. Now it was silence. Noah did all the things his mother used to do. 

No more special pancakes. 

Stiles sat on the swing in the back garden and stared tiredly at the fence, studying every hole, every flake of wood, every stroke of paint that was visible. For a six year old, he was exhausted, much too tired. He felt like he had just binged lots of sweets and was coming down from a sugar high. All the time. 

Eyes flickered to the woods and he watched the trees sway with the intense wind, which was making the other seat of the swing set blow around like crazy, the jangly sound of metal hurting his ears. 

He looked into the house, where his mother sat idly watching television, and then into the woods. 

Stiles ran. 

Stiles was short, but he could cover so much ground so quickly. His head was pounding and tears were escaping, lost in the strong wind. He panted, squinting against the powerful weather and he collapsed onto the floor, curling into himself as he cried. And cried. And cried. And cried. 

“Why...?” He sobbed, curling in on himself and his hands clamped the dirt beneath him. He sat like that for a while. The wind howling in his ears and dirt venturing inside his nails and his head ringing and tears streaming and face red. He could barely breathe at the end of his weeps, panting and feeling pathetic. Like a kid throwing a tantrum. 

Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, he sat up slowly. Stiles felt broken. He felt like the wind could carry him away at any moment. 

The wind howled more. 

And more. 

And more. 

Bewildered, Stiles stood with a little difficulty with the wind and squinted again, peering around him. The sun was setting and the canopy was already covering the floor of the lowering sun. 

“Hello?” He asked loudly. 

He moved forward a few steps. 

Red eyes. 

They beamed at him, threatening, glaring heat, flame. 

“H... hello...” Stiles repeated unsurely. Red eyes by association were... evil. That was what Claudia said. Or used to say, he guessed. 

The eyes began to move, and Stiles screamed and turned around to run back home, but clambering sounds hit the ground, getting louder, and louder, and louder. 

Two things hit his back and he tumbled to the floor, and he turned on his back to see a fully grown, black wolf, baring it’s fangs in his face, crimson eyes staring into his very being. 

“Pl-please don’t hurt me.” 

The wolf’s teeth were still bared. 

Was this it? 

Was he going to get eaten by a wolf? 

Was his father going to find his mangled corpse in the woods?

The wolf stopped for a moment. Seemingly... it realised something. 

Another howl, and then another wolf ran to them, bodying the larger one off. 

“Derek!” Stiles yelled, a relieved smile coming to his lips. 

The wolf stared at Derek for a moment, and then Stiles, and back to the younger wolf. It slowly began towards Derek, and squinted. 

They barked at each other, growling, and then the larger wolf turned to Stiles and put a paw on his chest to keep him down. 

“Puppy?” He whispered. 

The wolf’s tongue then darted out happily, tail wagging, and it gently lapped it’s tongue across Stiles’s forehead. Then back to Derek, barking a few more times, and Derek huffed and then trotted away with his tail between his legs. 

“Thank you for not eating me, good boy.” Stiles muttered and the dog barked. 

“Good girl?”

It seemed satisfied with that. 

Wait... Was that wolf Derek’s mother? 

Rain was thundering across the floor when he returned back home. He was drenched head to toe, muddy hands and flecks of dirt all over his clothes. Inside, he took off his shoes and began to unbutton his shirt, shaking. 

His mother hadn’t moved. 

She hadn’t even seemed to notice her child was out in the rain. 

“It’s raining.” He stated while removing his socks. He stood next to her. She did not take her eyes off the screen. 

Seeing no reply, he tried again, “pada deszcz.”

Still, nothing. He balled his fists and tried to control his growing anger. “Mama?”

Nothing. 

“Mama.”

Nothing. 

“Mama, why are you acting like this?”

Nothing. 

He put his hand on her shoulder and she slowly looked up to him. She looked him up and down and focussed on his trousers. 

“Remember to take...” she paused. Like she forgot the word. 

Stiles waited. The anger faded into concern. “Mama?” 

“Remember to take... uh... those off.” She gestured to his trousers and she drowsily went back to the tv. 

Stiles left and sat in his room, angrily reading comic books as tears slipped onto the pages below. 

Why had the female wolf attacked him? Why was his mother acting like this? Why was everything so confusing... Stiles fell asleep with his back against the wall, in his wet trousers. 

Noah sat at the table, flicking through the papers. They had absolutely no way of being able to pay for this... yet, he had to. He looked at Claudia who had fallen asleep across the hallway and on the sofa, and his heart pained. He needed to do this for her. He thought of Stiles, and how his previously hyper child was now reserved and silent, watching his mother like she was a bomb and never talking to Noah unless prompted. 

He needed to do this. For Claudia. 

For Stiles. 

His seventh birthday came around and he had Scott over. He was a loser at school, realistically, but that was alright. His detective loving friend was all he needed. They ate cake and watched tv and fell asleep in a pillow fort. When his eyes opened back up, it was to murmuring. Sleepy, he noted his Scott was snoring beside him, lips speckled with crumbs of his birthday cake, and he smiled lightly. Though, he sleepily waddled to the kitchen to see what his parents were muttering about. He stopped once he registered it was a serious conversation. 

“We can’t afford it.” His mother was saying. 

“We have to- it’s the only way to slow it down. I want you to be able to see Stiles grow up.”

“There is no cure to frontotemporal dementia. There isn’t a point...” her words halted, a little slurred, and Noah grunted in surprise, “honey, honey, sit down...” A creak of a wooden chair. 

“T... there...” she tried again. 

“It’s okay.”

“There isn’t... a- a... point to me getting help.” She murmured, and Noah inhaled sharply. “Please.”

“No.”

Stiles peeled in to see Claudia’s head resting on Noah’s chest, her hair was greasy and she looked tired. Noah saw Stiles’s wide eyes and gritted his teeth, heartbroken. “We are. And that’s final.”

Finding out your mother was going to die on your birthday was not a good gift. 

Stiles felt too ill. He sent Scott home and locked himself in his room. Head in hands, he gripped his hair and cried into the blanket, shoulders shaking up and down, and the panic that usually faded didn’t. It only got worse. He couldn’t breathe. 

Stiles only calmed once he fell asleep from sleep deprivation. 

What a great birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Pada deszcz - it’s raining
> 
> How y’all liking mama Hale?  
> Sorry for any typos <3


	4. Hospitals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Can I say I love comments omfg :,) y’all are so sweet. Translations at the bottom as usual! :D
> 
> Polish word/phrase of the day: “Miło mi” is the simplest way to say “nice to meet you” in Polish regardless of the context!

Stiles was nine. 

He was either sat at his mother’s side in hospital or in the woods, waiting for the wolf to turn up. He always came, leaping into Stiles’s arms and licking his face. He was unbelievably loving for an animal. Stiles was beginning to realise that a wolf shouldn’t be this intelligent. 

Derek had grown considerably since their first meeting. He was muscled, large, his eyes more dangerous than playful, his claws long... and yet, he still went soft whenever he caught sight of Stiles. It made Stiles feel special. After all, who else had a wolf companion? 

Stiles rubbed his eyes as he awoke to an accelerated beeping noise. He yawned and sat forward, seeing Claudia was awake, limp, and staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Cześć, jak się czujesz?” When his mother began to struggle with words and language, they found she understood Polish more. It made sense, she was never absolutely perfect at English, and it certainly challenged Stiles’s knowledge. He was a fast learner, and growing up with parents who sometimes spoke to each other in Polish made it easier for him to learn. 

As he became more aware, he realised that the monitor which was beeping was in fact his mother’s heart beat. He sat up, eyes wide, “Mama?” He asked, hand on hers. She grunted and pulled her hand away, like he was flame to her cool skin. 

“Przestań. Przestań. Za kogo ty się masz?” She asked, slurred however angry, her brows switching. 

Stiles was taken aback. ‘Who do you think you are?’ “Uspokój się... Mama, it’s me. Stiles.”

“Jesteś nienormalny. I have no son.” She spat in English and Stiles felt trapped. His heart shattered. He should feel safe, knowing Melissa was taking care of her, in these white walls and beds and other caring people. But now... his mother’s eyes looked at him like he was crazy. 

“Chyba sobie żartujesz. It isn’t funny, ‘Stiles’. Now, where am I?” She whispered and her eyes darted around, “where am I?”

“Mama- matka-“ he tried, hands shaking. 

“You!” She yelled, sweating, sitting forward. “You— you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?!”

“Uspokój się, uspokój się. Oddychać!” Stiles said, tears already building up. He ran to the door, flailing his arms, “help! Please! Mama- mom—“ he shook, and Mellisa came running in within a heart beat, looking at the wide eyed woman who glared flaming daggers at her son. Soon, another two nurses who had heard the commotion ran in too, and one pulled him away. 

“The kid was tryna kill me! He was going to kill me!”

Stiles fled. 

It was predictable he ended up in the forest, but he didn’t know where else to go. He stood in his usual meet up spot, panting, heaving, trying to get himself together. Claudia was always quiet, now. Basically mute. So when she spoke... the first time in months... to accuse him of trying to hurt her? That must have took so much effort. 

Stiles slapped a hand over his mouth and leaned on a tree. Attempting to breathe properly, he failed, eyes watering and he easily lost balance- and more importantly, he lost himself. He cried until his throat was sore. It croaked and it felt raw and scratchy and painful and that was okay. He needed something to take his mind off it. Claudia’s fearful expression mixed with rage was ingrained in his memory, the way she didn’t recognise him. Nine years wasted. Nine wears spinning down the drain. Nine years useless. 

Intense anxiety was something he was getting used to. He guessed it was understandable. Being beside his dying mother was the cause. On the floor, hands supporting him, he bent forward and sobs racked his body. He couldn’t control his breathing. Everything was too much. The beginning of pattering rain and the wind that was picking up and the sensation of mud against his palms and his head felt fuzzy, frazzled, static. 

“Stop.” He cried meekly. His breathing picked up. “Please...” rain or sweat? He couldn’t be sure. Whatever it was was trickling down his forehead. “Too much...” He whispered and gripped his hair. Too hard. 

“Stop!”

A weight on his shoulder. 

Stiles’s eyes bolted to the mass to find a fluffy, wet paw. It was black. Clean aside from the fresh mud, the claws looking well taken care off. His brown eyes went from the claws to the face. 

Derek. Of course. His face was cold, staring at his core, and Stiles turned around and hugged him. 

He smelt like wet dog and cookies. A very odd combination. Stiles couldn’t judge. He buried his face in the wolf’s chest and the wolf waited, putting his chin on Stiles’s shoulder, eyes closed as it waited for the crying to stop. For a while, they sat, in the increasingly more quick wind and the heavy rain. The wolf didn’t seem to mind, even cuddling more into Stiles to protect him as much he could. His bushy tail (flat from water) wrapped around Stiles’s back. 

Eventually, Stiles calmed, sniffling and his grip finally relaxing on the wolf’s fur. Sensing this, the wolf pulled back a little to see Stiles’s face. Derek tilted his head, whining. 

“I-I’m sorry, Derek.” Stiles whispered. If Derek hadn’t been a wolf, he doubt he would have heard it over the pounding rain. The wolf shook his head and licked his forehead. 

“My mom...” He murmured, clamping his hands on his wet flannel. “She- she’s ill. Like... really badly ill. She has been for a while.” The wolf was silent. “She forgot me today.”

A paw on his leg. He looked up, the electric blue eyes closing, and he put his forehead against Stiles’s. As if to say ‘I know’. He knew he would have to go home soon, his father was definitely alerted of what happened and Melissa would have noticed that Stiles had ran away now. And yet... Stiles didn’t want to pull away. His father knew of his adventures to the woods, so he would assume he went in there. So he could just... wait. 

“I- I- she—...” he whispered, and the canine’s eyes opened again, looking directly into the caramel ones. Stiles’s lip trembled. “S-she thought I was gonna kill her.”

The wolf whined sympathetically. Stiles laughed tiredly and looked at his dirty palms. “I don’t know why I talk to you so much. I have Scotty... and yet, I only talk you.” He murmured and the dog nudged his hand with his nose. Derek was so human for an animal. He had his own personality, he recognised Stiles’s feelings, he remembered things. He wasn’t as naive as he was when he was six. He was coming to realise that this wolf wasn’t normal. 

“You’re not normal, Dere.” Derek looked up at him and then at the floor. “I don’t know what’s up with you, or why you’re so smart, but right now, I don’t care.” He said, squeezing his hand on his clothes once more and then patting Dereks head. He left, clambering home and having a long bath, and ignoring his father when he spoke through the door. 

Stiles was ten. 

Stiles was ten when his mum died. 

Stiles was ten when he sat by his mother’s side as she let out her last breathe. 

Stiles was ten when he stopped going to the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Cześć, jak się czujesz?- hello, how do you feel?  
> Przestań- stop it   
> Za kogo ty się masz?- who do you think you are?  
> Uspokój się- calm down  
> Jesteś nienormalny- there’s something wrong with you  
> Chyba sobie żartujesz- you must be kidding me   
> matka- mother, formal  
> oddychać- breathe


	5. Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Derek POV lmao. The next chapters will take place when Stiles and Derek are older. I have changed a few things:  
> -I have changed Derek’s age. He is only three years older than Stiles, not 6. It seemed predatory to me, and it didn’t sit well with me.   
> -I have made all the Hale family evolved werewolves so it’s more interesting  
> -Orignally, both Laura and Derek are at school when the fire happens... but... angst, y’know?
> 
> Polish word/phrase of the day: “Call an ambulance!” - “Proszę wezwać pogotowie!“

Stiles woke up to sirens. It was nighttime, probably in the early morning, and he sat forward and scrubbed his face. He hopped off his bed and went to the window, opening the blinds. Presuming the lights were from police cars was wrong. 

They were firefighters. 

Stiles frowned and tried to follow them with his eyes for as long as he could, and the lights faded eventually and so did the raging noise. Tired, he returned back to bed and fell asleep shortly afterwards. 

Two days later, there were murmurs going around the school, and Stiles was too tired to care. Middle school was so much more different than elementary school, there being thirteen year olds stalking the halls and looking down on him like they owned the place. It was threatening, especially to Stiles’s fragile ego. 

It was a year since his mother died. Stiles thought he owned it like a champ. He moved on best he could, Scott always being there for him, and the school gave him special treatment of letting him off some homework. When the rumour reached the lips of Lydia Martin, the same green-eyed girl he had thought was stunning, was now his crush, and when she spoke, Stiles listened. 

“Yeah, I’ve heard about the Hale house fire.” She was saying to her friend, and Stiles stiffened. 

The Hale house? The one in the wood? The one he imagined living in when everything was terrible with his parents?

“Eight people died. It’s awful.” Lydia spoke, completely meaning it, biting her red lips. Stiles paled. Eight?

Fuck. 

“... what are you looking at?” Her friend spat, catching sight of Stiles. Off guard, Stiles stared like a deer in headlights and his mouth worked like a useless fish. The horror was pushed aside when Lydia’s beautiful eyes found his, and he knew he was blushing. 

Lydia turned away and walked away, beautiful hair swishing behind her. Stiles leaned against the lockers with a love struck smile, and Scott came up behind him and poked his side. 

“Dude, you totally have the hots for Lydia.” He laughed and Stiles went redder, “maybe...” 

Scott had his shaggy but wavy hair- the type that covered the ears. His eyebrows were dark, complimented by cute brown eyes. Even though Scott was undeniably sweet and adorable, he had braces and was short, so most girls didn’t even acknowledge him when it came to dating. 

“Aw, so cute.” He teased, ruffling Stiles’s hair, who ducked away with a giggle. “So, you coming over to mine? We can watch Gordon Ramsay again.” And then commenced a conversation about the famous chef, and then quoting him, giggling when they said bad words and looking around to when anyone saw them. 

This was what Stiles wanted. A normal, happy life. One with his friend by his side, fancying a girl who didn’t even give him a glance, living with a father who respected him. 

It was nice. 

Stiles sometimes laid in bed and thought of Derek, the wolf. He had been plaguing his mind, devouring all his thoughts, dominating his memories with his unnatural eyes and charcoal fur. Stiles had concluded he was an imaginary friend- one that appeared when he was struggling, so he could feel like he wasn’t alone. It made sense for a number of reasons. For one: children often had imaginary friends. Two: Stiles was very lonely. And three: no wolf acted that way. 

The Hale House fire was a common talk among students. It wasn’t often a fire happened, and even more of a scarcity when people died because of it. His dad had been one of the first ones to know, being the sherif, and he had a very glassy look in his eyes whenever it was brought up. Stiles asked him once he was home, but Noah just shook his head and stared into the woods. 

“Why don’t you ever go into the woods anymore, son?” Noah asked, changing the subject. Stiles looked into the calm trees and licked his bottom lip. “I dunno, dad.” A void of sound came between them. Since Claudia, it hadn’t been the same. Stiles knew it could not have been easy, losing someone you care about, in such a deep way. In a way he didn’t understand yet. 

Noah coughed into his hand to break the silence. “Look, kid. I don’t want you going in there again. Not until you’re older. Or with me. Since the Hale fire... I just kept imagining what would have happened if you were in there. It was almost a forest fire, but we were lucky nine-one-one was called and they stopped it before it got so bad. But... all those times you went in the woods, I let you. And I was a bad parent for doing that. I was too caught up with...” he breathed out shortly, turning his tired eyes on Stiles, who was glued to the woods. “Anyway, please, stay safe. We only have each other.”

As Stiles was walking away, he heard his father murmur, “why did Derek and Laura run away..?”

“Derek!” 

“Derek, run! Get outa here!”

“Run!”

Derek snapped forward from his prison of terror and yelped. A comforting yet stern hand fell on his shoulder and he whipped around, first raised and nails extended, but his hand was caught without a trouble. His sister, Laura, stared at him with cold, hazel eyes. Derek stared back, but let his hand fall to his side. 

He looked around the train, where only a few people remained, and yawned loudly. “Where are we, Laura?” He asked. The train was coming to a jittering stop, the sound of squealing tires hurting his sensitive ears. A full moon was drawing in and Derek still hadn’t fully controlled himself yet, evident by how his claws took a moment too long to return to their rightful home. Laura was unreadable, holding herself proud and stark, wearing their mother’s, Talia, jacket. Her boots were scuffed and both of their dark hair was a mess. The more aware Derek came, the more he remembered...

The screams. 

Her nostrils flared for a moment and she stroked his hair, “calm. Calm.” She whispered. Finally, the train stopped all the way and she stood, holding her hand for him to take. Laura was a very stark and cold faced woman, but she always cared for her family. Derek was just lucky enough to be apart of it. Taking his bag, he hopped down from the plastic chair and followed her out. It was dark out. It smelt damp. It was cold. Derek was already cold wearing his v-neck and green jacket. Laura lugged him along, and even though she didn’t intend it, she still made him feel meek and small. Being fourteen and hearing eight of your family members scream and cry was definitely going to be a staple in his life. 

“Lu, where are we?” He asked, struggling to keep up. 

Laura smelt the air again, “Colorado right now. I don’t think they followed us.” She spoke to herself and Derek’s green eyes went wide, “w-who?”

She sighed in aggravation. Recovering quickly, she offered a small smile. “The Hunters. The one that got mom. The Argents.” She spat with such venom she resembled a snake. 

The younger teen knew people hated them for what they were... but arson? Murder? He was shaking, and not from the cold. 

Clearly smelling the dread, she turned, crouching down and putting her hands on his face. “We’re gonna be okay. I grabbed mom’s stash of money, we should be set for a few years. We’re gonna get as far away as possible. Those Hunters, Derek. They’ll never stop coming for us. They want us dead.” She spoke. Derek’s bottom lip trembler. “See, Hunters hate all types of werewolves. But, we’re special. We’re evolved. Because we can turn into real wolves and control it.”

She stroked some hair from his face. Derek looked at his hands, his claws extended so he could stare at them in despair. 

“They want us dead. And we have no choice but to run. This train only goes this far, so we’ll stay in a hotel for a bit, and then we’ll keep going.”

Derek nodded and trotted behind her, looking lost, “where are we headed?”

A smirk came to her lips.

“New York.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have stiles and Derek interactions! Sorry for the slow burn! Also please leave comments ima cry y’all are so nice.   
> Check out my insta @marvel_is_the_good_kush for my art💞


	6. The werewolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Gimme suggestions of what you want to see. Derek is a teenager in high school with him B))
> 
> Sorry for any typos!
> 
> Polish word/phrase of the day: To introduce yourself with your first name, say “mam na imię ___“

Scott was claiming he was a werewolf. 

When his best friend said there was a wolf in the woods, he got a jumpstart of memories of the two wolves he had met in the woods when he was a child. The one with the electric eyes and the one with the blood ones. He shook away those thoughts immediately, dismissing it. After all, wolves hadn’t been in California for many years. Scott was a sweaty mess. He was acting strange. He kept smelling the air, and to prove his abilities he told Stiles was he had in his pocket. Exactly. 

Stiles bit his lip. It had been years since he had been in the forest, the last time being when he had checked out the Hale house, seeing it in all its burnt glory. After that, he didn’t return, afraid of the loneliness and getting lost. He didn’t know how he used to do it, going into the woods. 

Anyway, they were searching for Scott’s inhaler. He insisted he had saw the dead body (that was why they had gone out in the first place, to find half of a corpse). When they got there, there wasn’t just no body, but no inhaler either.

“Dude.” Stiles murmured, exasperated, rubbing his eyes and looking around. Animatedly, he gestured to the lack of things on the floor and Scott frowned. “I swear it was here-“ He was cut off by a snap of a twig. 

They both turned. 

There stood a tall, black haired man, stubble growing. Even though it was summer, he was in full black- a leather jacket and some jeans that left basically nothing to the imagination. 

When his charming green eyes landed on Stiles though, his stark expression fell and his mouth parted. “Stiles?” His eyes were wide, and he looked somewhat scared to have made this discovery. 

Scott frowned and looked at Stiles, “do you know this guy?” 

The freckled boy’s brows furrowed, “the kurwa? no- I don’t. Who are you and how do you know my name? It’s creepy. Especially since you’re standing there, all Terminator style, and you look like you’re gonna like kidnap us and send us to a government facility-“ Stiles was cut off by the man throwing something at Scott, he moved unnaturally fast to catch it. His inhaler... wait, did that mean the guy saw the body? Stiles’s mouth worked uselessly and he looked between the mysterious man and Scott. 

The guy gritted his teeth, “this is private property. Get off.” And when Stiles and Scott looked at each other, then back to the dark haired dude, the guy was gone. 

It took Stiles five minutes to realise it was the missing boy, Derek Hale. 

He put his foot down on the jeep and face palmed. Scott didn’t get it. 

Stiles sat on a bench, waiting for Scott to turn up. It had only been a few days of school and a new girl, Allison, had taken all of Scott’s attention. Stiles would love to be mad, but Allison was so kind and genuine, it made it hard for him to mind when Scott ditched him for her. But... Allison was also in a family of werewolf hunters. Stiles got it. He got that Scott was the main character, jeez. He was probably just angry because his own love life was a flop- still head over heels for Lydia Martin, who barely even glanced at him, and only did when her dickhead, stupid, asshole boyfriend taunted him. 

Again, no one came to his table, and he groaned quietly and rubbed his eyes. So, Scott was a werewolf now, he guessed, the man (well, teenager- Stiles had read his file when his father was asleep) that his dad had worried about for years had returned for some reason, there was a dead body in the woods that no one had found yet, torn in half... 

He wondered if he should have seen the supernatural stuff coming- after all, Claudia was always talking about it. 

Angry no one turned up, he stomped off into the bathroom, washing his face and running his fingers through his hair. He stared at himself in the mirror. His life had gotten so complicated. At the beginning, it was just peace. He had loving parents who would do anything for him. Then, the disease came, and brutalised the calm. Noah had tried to move on, but never really succeeded. They had a rocky relationship. Stiles liked to challenge authority and Noah so happened to not only be his dad, but the town sherif either. It was all going so well until the night in the woods...

There were eyes looking at him in the corner of the mirror. He jumped, turning around, to be met with the gaze of no one but Derek fucking Hale. 

“D-Derek Hale!” He said before he could control his mouth. “Why- why are you here? Don’t tell me you’re actually a spy for the government and you’ve come to get me-“ he stopped talking when Derek took a step forward, eyes narrowing. “Okay, I get it, you don’t like me talking. Which is fair. I get it. I understand. It’s just I kinda talk when I’m nervous and you’re kinda in my personal space so I’m kinda getting anxious. Wow, did I say ‘kinda’ a lot in there.” He breathed, but Derek only squinted, studying Stiles closely. 

“You are Stiles?” He asked. Like he was making sure. 

“Uh, no, I’m Luke Skywalker.” He spat, “dude, of course I’m Stiles-“ He was cut off again (what was with Derek and cutting off his words?) when Derek’s hand came around his shirt, and he locked the bathroom door so no one could come in. 

“You’re friends with Scott?”

“Uh-“ Stiles stuttered, feeling trapped. “Um-“ he looked at Derek’s strong hand that was wrapped around his graphic t-shirt and patted his knuckles. “Please stop.”

The black haired boy thought for a long moment, and then let him go, though he didn’t stop staring with those piercing, moss eyes. They reminded him of the forest, of nature, being surrounded by canopies and bushes and lush plants. He swallowed sharply and adjusted his shirt.

“Yeah, I’m friends with Scott. But he’s not into dudes, bro. So I wouldn’t even bother trying.” Derek looked at him with a deadpan expression. Wait, this wasn’t what this was about? 

“He’s a werewolf now. There’s a full moon coming out soon. He trusts you. When a full moon comes by, you need to lock him up. His blood lust will be at a high when it starts to rise-“

“Woah, woah, woah, big man,” Stiles said, rubbing his nose, then his forehead. “Big man. Chill. Take it slow. Firstly: he’s actually a werewolf? Can he turn into wolves? Wait, will he kill me? Oh, I don’t wanna— okay, stop getting side tracked. Secondly: bloodlust-“ Derek growled a little (he growled?) and poked Stiles’s chest. 

“No. He can’t turn into a wolf. Yes, he could definitely kill you. To prevent him from killing your ass, listen to me. I want you guys to meet me after school on the field, okay?”

“After school?” Stiles said. 

“Yeah. The best way to keep an eye on Scott so he doesn’t kill anyone would be to join the school.” He said, brows never relaxing. “Meet me after school.”

“What if I’ve already made plans?” Stiles challenged, narrowing his eyes, and Derek pushed against the wall. 

“I’ll rip your throat out. With my teeth. Or maybe, Scott will do it first.”

The bell rang. They left. 

Convincing Scott to ditch the date for Derek took a hefty amount of time, Scott blabbering about how this was his first time ever dating a girl and how he shouldn’t fuck it up now, but then he lightly reminded Scott that he was a fucking werewolf and that shut him up quickly. 

Both teens crept up onto the field. Stiles couldn’t help but glance out into the woods. An instinct. On the bleachers, sat one dark, tall and handsome. 

“So, do you get sweaty with the combat boots and leather jacket or do you just not melt?” Stiles said sneakily, and Scott swallowed nervously. Scott had always been worried about Stiles’s big mouth and what trouble it got them into. Derek ignored him. “Scott.” He greeted, stepping down from the seats to meet them. He was tall against them, very muscled, even against Scott who had been doing exercise daily since he was fourteen. “So I’m a werewolf?”

“Yes. You’re a beta. You were turned by an alpha.” He started off simple. Derek looked at Stiles for a short moment. “The full moon is in a few days. Have you been feeling... aggressive, recently?”

And there began a conversation where eventually Stiles began to take notes. He was kind of let down on how Scott wouldn’t be able to turn into a wolf, but realistically it was probably better for them anyway. A few of his notes included that wolfsbane was damaging, silver was terrible, the moon changed their behaviour- like making them angry or lustful. Shifting- and what Scott has was ‘Beta-Shifting’ apparently- could happen if his heart beat rose too much. But it could be controlled. 

So making Scott angry was the task for the day, to see how well he controlled it. Stiles shifted uncomfortably at the idea. Sure, he loved to annoy Scott, but make him angry? Try and make him into a werewolf? He shuddered. 

“Think about the hunters.” Derek suggested, hands in his pockets. 

“H-... you know about that?”

“I was gonna step in but you ran fast enough.” Derek said, and Scott’s eye twitched. “You saw me almost die by getting shot by my girlfriend’s dad and you didn’t help?”

Derek simply blinked, “no. You handled it.”

Suddenly, Scott was rushing at the taller boy who side stepped. When Scott turned again, he had fangs, his nose was less defined, and his hair had grown. Noticeably, his eyes glowed. Stiles fell off the bleacher, “Holy fuck!”

Derek smirked. “There you go.”

Scott’s sneer faded as he stared at his clawed hands and it turned into horror, and then realisation, then he calmed. 

“And that is your first lesson. You can control it.”

Derek then walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Kurwa - fuck


End file.
